


Death is the Beginning

by TheBestTeacup



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Kabby, Mummy AU, abby kicking butt, angst/fluff/smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5861176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBestTeacup/pseuds/TheBestTeacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mummy AU in which Abby raises Imhotep from the grave and then goes on a crazy adventure with her desert guide, Marcus, and her big brother Jackson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClumsyCapitolUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyCapitolUnicorn/gifts).



> Jake and Clarke Griffin do not exist in this verse, nor do most of the usual characters. Mostly because the Mummy is known for most of it's characters dying and I didn't like altering the original story too much. Though, I am describing fully regenerated Imhotep with Lincoln's features, so you can always picture Anck Su Namun as Octavia. 
> 
> As usual, I love feedback, blah blah blah :)

As Abigail Griffin walked across the dusty courtyard of Cairo’s prison, studiously ignoring the catcalls raining down on her from three levels of cages, she was pretty sure her trip here was going to resort in her murdering her older brother. It was due time, seeing as he not only wasted most of their inheritance but was also constantly getting himself into scrapes that he had no way of getting out of. And when he did miraculously escape whatever predicament he found himself in, he didn’t know when to call it quits.

 

Why else would he insist she come to a prison to speak to the man he stole something from? She really should have told him to sod off, except that for once in his life Jackson might have actually found something of true importance.  

 

“I can’t believe you told me you uncovered the box at a dig,” she hissed to her brother as they followed the warden to a cell across the yard, “and I really can’t believe I fell for it.”

 

“I have to admit, you do seem off your game Abs,” Jackson chided with his usual cheeky grin, “when have I ever actually had a successful dig?”

 

He did have a point. While they had both had the same, equal upbringing, Jackson had never truly taken to archeology, or Egyptology like she had. His subpar skills within such topics were never more obvious than when he returned from some half ass dig with nothing but junk. She should have known that he didn’t find his latest treasure while on a job site. If he had actually been working, he would have been too busy drinking or flirting with desert women to notice something so valuable.

 

And yet, when he appeared at the museum she worked for and presented her a puzzle box with a map inside, she hadn’t even questioned his story. Which she was greatly regretting at the moment.

 

Before she could reprimand the oaf that was her sibling any further, the warden halted in front of an empty cell, and Abby had to jump back from slamming into him.

 

“Well, where is he?”

 

The small, rotund, and smelly man eyed her over his shoulder with disgust, as if offended to be bossed by a lady, before he yelled out a command and the door on the other side of the cell swung open. Through it was forced a struggling man, who fell to his knees an inch away from the metal bars.

 

Panting the man looked up at the party standing around his cage, and Abby’s heart sank. She was so hoping when Jackson brought her here that she had a good lead. However, as she took in this man’s long black hair, unruly beard and brown eyes that looked half mad; she had a feeling he was as useless as her brother was.

 

“Missionaries?” he sneered as he took in the bible clutched in Jackson’s hand.

Abby rolled her eyes. Jackson had insisted they bring the bible “for cover” so no one would second guess their intentions, and yet it was clear the man before her didn’t buy that story for a minute.

 

Jackson obviously didn’t get that he had been spotted for a fool as he edged closer to the cell, his smarmy smile on his face. “Listen good sir, my sister and I have come to ask you about-“

 

With a groan he stumbled back, hitting the ground hard and it took Abby a moment to realize that the prisoner had slugged him. The guards in the cell started yelling in Egyptian and beating the man with sticks, but he swatted them away as if the punishment merely irritated him.

 

“Son of a bitch stole from me,” he was hollering at the men, though they probably didn’t understand him, “he had that coming.”

 

“So you know why we are really here?” Abby asked, stepping past her prone brother to stare down at the man, “You know we have come to ask you about the puzzle box?”

 

The man grinned, and if it weren’t for his wild look she would have almost thought it made him look handsome. Then remembering where she was and who this man was, she shook such silly thoughts away. She was on a mission.

 

“You don’t want to know about the box. You want to know about Hamunaptra.”

 

“You have heard of it?”

 

His smile grew, though there was more sarcasm in it this time, “If by heard of it, you mean walked through it, then yeah I have heard of it.”

 

Abby gasped, and stepped closer still, her face almost level with the man’s, “You have really been there? Honestly?”

 

“Honestly.”

 

“Could you lead us there?”

 

The man laughed, “It would take a lot more than a set of pretty eyes to convince me to go back there. Besides, you don’t need a guide, the box has a map…if you know how to access it.”

 

Abby cringed, her mind flashing to what had become of the document he was referring to. She still could not understand how a curator could be so careless with an artifact, as to let it catch on fire.

 

“The map was destroyed,” she admitted, “that is why I am here. There must be some way I could persuade you.”

The man chuckled, and then before she knew it he had her chin in a tight grip, and was pressing his lips against hers. For a moment time stood still as his dry lips molded to her mouth, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked from her. Over all it wasn’t too bad of an experience given the circumstances.

 

And then, just as suddenly as the kiss began it ended as her body instinctively reacted and she brought her leg up between the bars to knee him in the stomach. The man fell back, and the guards quickly took over hitting him once more while they wrestled him towards the door.

 

“If you want to see your precious Hamunaptra,” he yelled as he was wrestled away, “you better get me the hell out of here.”

 

For a second or two after he disappeared Abby was stunned into silence, and then as her mind caught up to her she turned to the warden, “I insist on paying that man’s bail.”

 

The man laughed, “No bail for him, he is on his way to the gallows.”

 

“The gallows!? No, there must be some way for me to persuade you to let him go. I will pay anything.”

 

“Abby,” Jackson started, as he picked himself off from the ground, “you know we can’t- ow!”

 

She would apologize to her brother later for pinching him so hard, but for now she needed to figure out how to free her potential guide before the warden realized she had very little to offer. Across the yard she could see the man she was fighting for being dragged to the hanging platform, and her heart started to beat uncontrollably. This could be her last chance to get the attention of Cambridge scholars, her last chance to be taken seriously despite her gender, and she was not going to let it be ripped away from her.

 

“Please, there has to be another way” she begged the warden, gripping his arm between her hands, “whatever you want, just ask for it.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a night or two with you.” The man’s free hand slid around to cop a feel, and on instinct Abby slapped him away causing his face to flame in embarrassment as prisoners all over the yard roared in laughter.

 

“Kill him!” the warden shouted to his men, and to Abby’s horror she realized they had already gotten the man into a noose. Before she could say anything the executioner pulled a lever and down the man went, the rope growing taut. Abby’s eyes slammed shut as all her dreams were killed with him, only to open them again when the warden laughed. She was just about to reprimand him for his cruelty when she caught sight of the prisoner struggling.

 

“Too bad his neck didn’t break,” the slimy power hungry man crowed, “looks like your friend will have a slow death.”

 

Hope springing up inside her Abby turned and pulled the half destroyed map from Jackson’s shirt pocket and thrust it at the warden.

 

“My brother stole this from the prisoner, it is…or was…a map to Hamunaptra. That man has been there, and knows how to get back.”

 

“Liar!”

 

Abby pushed the map into his hands, trying to ignore the struggles of the hanging man a few feet away, “Look at that symbol! It is the symbol of the lost city! How can you risk such an opportunity? I would be willing to give you ten percent of the gold we bring back.”

 

The man’s eyes lit up with greed, “Fifty percent.”

 

Nervously Abby glanced over the man’s shoulder, startled to see the prisoner’s face turning purple, “Twenty percent.”

 

“Forty!”

 

“Thirty!”

 

“Twenty-five!”

 

Crowing in delight at the man’s unfortunate slip up, Abby grabbed his hand and called it a deal. She didn’t even bother to hide her victorious smile as the warden cursed himself and gestured at the guards to release the still struggling man.

 

With a thump the prisoner fell to the ground as the rope above him was severed and for a moment he lay perfectly still, causing panic to claw at Abby’s already frayed nerves. Perhaps she had been too late, she had not fought hard enough. Then, before full panic could set in, the man stirred and raised his steely eyes towards hers with a mixture of annoyance and awe on his face.

 

Knowing she was going to get her way, Abby’s smile returned and she headed towards him to make a deal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and the gang start their journey, and run into an unlikely foe.

This trip was quickly going from bad to worse.

 

The morning had dawned so beautifully, Abby having bounced from her bed in the Cairo hotel where she lived with her brother, to finish packing for their journey. She was finally going on an adventure that was bound to be worth something. She had a guide, who while wild did seem to have the knowledge she required, and in no time she would be at Hamunaptra uncovering proof that the city indeed existed. More importantly she was determined she would find the Book of Amun-Ra, and use it to gain acceptance by the Cambridge scholars. Everything was finally working out in her favor.

 

Her attitude changed slightly when they arrived at the boat that would take them swiftly down the Nile, and met up with Marcus Kane.

 

The man who was wild, but seemed malleable within the prison was a completely different man outside of it. For one, he had his hair cut in the week since she saved his life, and trimmed his beard down until it was mostly day old stubble on his cheeks. His eyes had lost their mad like quality, and in their place was a cold aloofness that set Abby on edge. Before her was not a criminal who would bow to her whim out of gratitude, but a man of duty who might possibly make her life hell despite of the life debt he owed her.

 

It also didn’t help that his new, clean cut appearance sent a wave of warmth through her blood stream. She shook the feeling away as soon as it began. She was a serious scholar, after all, and she had no time to waste admiring a fine looking man. She was chiding herself inwardly for acting like a school girl, when she turned and let out an unladylike curse at the sudden appearance of the prison warden.

 

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” Jackson had asked as Abby collected her composure.

 

“I was not about to let you have a chance to cheat me out of my share. I am coming with.”

 

“This should be fun,” Mr. Kane sneered, as he followed the Egyptian up the gangblank, leaving the two Griffins to mull over this change of plans.

 

“It isn’t too late to back out Abs,” Jackson offered, taking a swig from his flask.

 

“No,” she insisted as she began to march after their guide, “we are going. And try not to drink too much. I don’t feel like getting you out of any trouble on this trip.”

 

~~~

Abby tried to tell herself as the day progressed that things were still fine, but with each passing hour she realized she should have thought things through a little better. Here she was on her way to the most important dig of her life, and all she had as company was her drunk brother, a greedy (and very stinky) prison worker, and a stoic, sarcastic excuse for a guide. She was likely to kill all of them before the boat had even reached their unloading point, or she was going to throw herself in the Nile to be a crocodile’s dinner.

 

Just when she thought nothing could drive her more insane than her companions, she was met with an even bigger obstacle when she, Mr. Kane, and Jackson sat down in the dining room for dinner.

 

“Abigail Griffin! As I live and breathe! Whatever are you doing here?”

 

Abby stiffened in her seat, her eyes shooting up to see Jackson cringe and Mr. Kane glance at the siblings in confusion, before she turned to greet the person who was calling out to her.

 

“Hello Diana,” she called, her smile tight as the blonde approached and took the fourth seat at their table uninvited.

 

Diana Sydney was an American archeologist with whom Abby had very little love for. While she was all for women advancing in every field of work and education, Diana had a bad reputation that followed her where ever she went. She had been on one too many digs in which people died just before a big discovery was made. There were rumors she had had a hand in the deaths in order to take credit on the findings that made her so wealthy, but since it had yet to be proven she was still a nuisance running large amongst the Egyptian deserts. And now she was sitting on the same river boat as the Griffins and their guide, which made Abby’s mood sour all the more.

 

“Whatever are you doing here sweetling?” Diana asked, her eyes more focused on Marcus than on Abby herself.

 

“We are on our way to Hamun- ow!” Jackson shot Abby a hurt look as he reached down to rub where she kicked him.

 

Of course her assault on her brother was too little, too late as Diana turned her focus on her, eyes alight with glee, “Hamunaptra? Oh what a coincidence, we are on our way there as well.”

 

Abby inwardly groaned, but kept her smile in place, “We?”

 

“Oh yes, me and my fellow explorer friends. Or mates as you would say.”

 

Abby followed where the woman was gesturing and laid eyes on a group of three people sitting at a nearby table. One was a tall black man, who looked just as condescending as his female companion, and the other two looked like boys heading on their first adventure. Abby almost felt bad for the latter ones because she had no doubt Diana could eat them alive if she so pleased.

 

“And, how are you finding your way to Hamunaptra Diana? I hope you aren’t trailing us, that would be most unfitting.”

 

The blonde laughed, “No, no. We have found ourselves a guide.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

Both Abby and Diana turned to look at Mr. Kane as he finally decided to join in on the conversation, one with confusion at his suspicious tone the other with a flirty smile.

 

“Why yes,” Diana offered, leaning forward, “a man who has proof he has been there.”

 

“What a coincidence-” Jackson started to say, but Abby kicked him again earning herself a dark look.

 

“What were you going to say dear?” Diana asked him, batting her lashes.

 

Jackson shot a glance towards Abby who was staring him down with daggers and blanched, “Oh…um…just that the bar happens to have my favorite whiskey. Excuse me.”

 

“I have to love your brother Abigail; he is just so unchanging in an ever changing world.”

 

“Yeah he is something all right.”

 

Diana smiled, and then turned to address Mr. Kane once more, “You know, it is a long way down the river. If you want some company, I wouldn’t be abject to offering it.”

 

“Thanks,” the man drolled, “but I prefer my solitude.”

 

His obvious rejection sent the bothersome vixen back to her table with a huff, and Abby would have almost been happy to see her go if it weren’t for the fact that she had been left alone with Mr. Kane for the first time.

 

“You know; you don’t have to say no to her.” Abby offered for lack of anything else to say, “As long as you don’t tell her about our trip details.”

 

“Do you want me to accept her?”

 

“My opinion is rather here nor there Mr. Kane. I know how men like you have certain desires, and Diana is always more than welcome to fulfill them.”

 

“Men like me?”

 

“Yes, adventurers, ruffians, that type.”

Mr. Kane shot her a coldly amused look, “Ruffian?”

 

“Well yes, you _were_ just in jail if I need remind you. And gentlemen don’t just grab girls they don’t know and kiss them.”

 

“They do when said girl has such beautiful features.”

 

“You think I have beautiful features?”

 

Any teasing that might have been present seemed to leave Mr. Kane in a second, as if he had caught himself doing something wrong. In it’s place was his usual formal exterior, “Quite honestly any woman would have looked good in that hell hole.”

 

His words sent ice into the pit of Abby’s stomach, and she was shocked to find she was disappointed by his statement, though she had no idea why. She had no care what this man thought of her, only that he could get her to where she needed to be, and yet his harsh words still left her feeling crushed. Confused she shot up from the table, shooting Mr. Kane a hateful look before rushing to her room.

 

Once there she went about readying herself for bed, angrily tearing off her traveler’s skirt and blouse and slipping into her night gown.

 

“The nerve of that man,” she vented as she unpinned her hair and began to brush it out in angry strokes, then just as quickly she changed her tune, “No Abigail, this is your problem. You can not let some man get to you so much. You are better than that.”

 

Her brushing finished, she braided her hair quickly, and tied it off. She turned to the mirror to check to make sure she hadn’t missed a strand, when the image of a man in black behind her caused her to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Foolish woman is making me wish I had died on the gallows,”_ Marcus fumed as he left the ship’s dining room and stormed to his own quarters.

When he had first spotted Abigail Griffin in the yard of the prison, he had to admit there was a moment in which he was struck dumb by her presence and was pretty sure he was hallucinating. How else could one explain such a beautiful creature standing amongst the pain and filth that was that God-forsaken excuse of a prison? She stood there, so tall, so regal; a sunbeam shining down on her that made the red tints in her brown locks shine, absolute perfection.

And then she turned those large brown eyes on him, and the feeling of awe was gone. No angel would be capable of that much judgement and scorn. Like she was one to judge, her brother was a no good drunken thief. Though now that he had slugged the man, Marcus really had no hard feelings against Jackson, just his sister. He was well aware the woman saved his life and that was the only reason he was on this expedition; he just wished she wasn’t so mouthy. He was used to the women in his life being much more meek and a lot more fun, and Abigail was neither of those things. What irked him most was that he sort of liked that about her. Not that he would admit it for a second; it was much better for both of them (especially her) if he kept his distance.

Still, he couldn’t shake the earlier hurt in her eyes (such hauntingly beautiful eyes) from his mind as he walked along the deck. Perhaps he should find a way to apologize to her in the morning for being so flippant about their jail yard kiss; without letting her get too close of course. It was a necessity after all for them to get along, lest they drive one another to murder in the middle of the desert, but that didn’t mean they had to be best friends. They just had to be civil. Yes, he would find a way to make the peace, and then count down the days until he could leave the distracting woman in his dust.

The sound of two crates falling against each other pulled Marcus from his inner thoughts, and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of someone diving to hide behind some cargo. Growling, he reached out and grabbed the man by the back of the shirt and shoved him against the railing of the deck.

“Hello Murphy.”

The smaller man looked up at him with wide eyes and a slimy smile that Marcus had grown to hate, and put his hands up in a placating manner, “Hel-Hello Kane! So nice to see you here. How have you been?”

Marcus pushed the man harder against the railing, delighting in the nervous gasp from his old ‘friend,’ “As you can see I am alive and well, no thanks to you.”

“Ahh, are you still mad about that? Look you are fine no harm no foul. We have both survived Hamunaptra and lived to tell the tale!”

“Hm,” Marcus mused, “And let me guess, _you_ are the one who is leading the other group there as well? What’s your endgame?”

The man scoffed, “I have no end game, I have just been hired to do a job, that’s it! And you are one to talk! Don’t tell me you are leading _your_ group for no reason other than out of the goodness of your heart. Not when you are traveling with someone as beautiful as the girl I saw you with on the docks earlier.”

Marcus ignored the man’s suggestive tone, and tightened his grip on his shirt a little more, “You know what I think? I think you are leading those people out there with the intent of abandoning them once you get the opportunity.”

“I wish,” Murphy grumped, “they aren’t paying me until after we get back to Cairo. There is so little trust in this world nowadays.”

“Uhhuh,” Marcus loosened his hold on him, and went to take step back, “well just know that I have my eye on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, but um…hey…now that we have all that out in the open; if you aren’t interested in that girl do you mind if I- what? Kane!”

Marcus smiled at the loud splash Murphy made as he fell into the Nile, leaning over to watch the man bounce up and start yelling curses at him. Glancing down the deck he saw some men were already going about fishing him out, so he moved to go on to his quarters, satisfied that the younger man would stick to his expedition and he could sleep easy.

However Marcus paused yet again when he caught sight of a series of wet foot prints heading towards the sleeping quarters. Furrowing his brow, he went to glance over the side of the ship to make sure Murphy was still in the water when he the silhouette of a canoe caught his eye. An empty canoe that was tied off to the bottom of the ship’s emergency escape ladder.

An uneasy feeling started to make its way up Marcus’ spine as he swiftly and quietly followed the footprints, his hand reaching for his guns as he descended the stairs that led to their rooms. He had just hit the bottom step when a startled scream from Abigail’s room sent him running towards her door. He kicked it in without hesitation, freezing when he found his boss being held against a man in black with a knife at her throat.

_Medjai_

Marcus cursed, having not expected to run into these men until they were closer to their destination and angry with himself for not being more prepared. He leveled his gun, trying to figure out how to best disarm the invader, when Abigail drove her elbow into his stomach and drove a nearby candle into his eye. The man screamed and fell back along with the candle, both himself and the curtains of the room going up in flames.

With not much time to consider his options, Marcus shot off a mercy shot in the man’s direction hoping to end his pain, before grabbing Abigail’s arm and pulling her from the room, stopping only long enough to kick in his own door and grab his duffel. He had to get her off the boat and onto the banks of the Nile before they all sunk to their deaths.

Of course, as this trip was proving quite swiftly, things were not going to be easy for them. As soon as they ascended back up to the main deck, Marcus was overcome with smoke, the wild neighing of horses, and gun fire. Everywhere he looked medjai were lashing out at the occupants of the ship, who were all firing back with whatever firearm they had on hand. Across the way he could make out the younger members of Diana Sydney’s crew whooping with delight as they shot off round after round, while the older, more stoic member of the group ushered the blonde to the railing of the ship, only shooting when necessary. It took him a few seconds to fully take in everything in the chaos, but once he did, he was made quite aware that someone was yelling at him.

“Let me go! I need to go back,” Abigail was hollering, trying to wrench free from his grip, “We left the map!”

“That half-burnt paper is useless and you know it,” he called back as he took out two medjai who were running at him with swords, “that is why you hired me, I have the way memorized. Now shut up and let me get you out of here.”

She slumped in compliance though a glare remained on her face, and he took advantage of the moment to reload his guns, his focus solely on getting the bullets into the chambers as quickly as possible. He was almost done, when he felt a sharp tug on his arm and he stumbled towards the woman beside him. He barely had time to register the bullet hole in the wall behind where his head had been, accompanied with the smug look on his companion’s face, before she had plucked one of his pistols from his grip and fired off two shots at a medjai that was fast approaching.

“That way?” she asked gesturing towards the bank nearest their side of the boat.

Dumbstruck, but still able to process what she was asking, Marcus nodded, and took down yet another approaching man. His eyes followed her as she darted across the deck, and (more nimbly than he could’ve imagined) leapt over the railing and into the river below. He was just about to follow when he remembered her brother and cursed. The woman would kill him if he left her only family to fend for himself.

Thankfully, he barely moved a step, when the object of his thoughts appeared beside Marcus holding the puzzle box triumphantly in his hand.

“I can’t believe Abs would leave this behind!” Jackson called joyfully, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around them, even as Marcus shot someone over his shoulder.

“Just get into the river and to the bank,” he shouted, pushing him towards the railing, and following close behind, “Your sister is already over.”

Nodding, Jackson tucked the box in his pocket and with a lot less grace than his sister, dove into the river below. Marcus made to follow when the prison warden he had forgotten about ran up to him in a frenzy.

“Kane! Kane! What do we do!?”

Smirking, Marcus glanced at his former captor before climbing up on the railing, “Stay here, I will be back.” With that he dove into the water below.

 ~~~

Minutes later, Marcus stood on the sandy shore of the Nile, watching as the remainder of their ship sunk into the water below. Across the way he could make out his fellow Americans, and Murphy running onto their bank with all the horses that had survived, while behind him Abigail and Jackson wrung water from their clothes. Sadly the warden was beside them, obviously having not listened to him when he had told him to stay put. Pity.

A cursory glance told him the contents of the his duffle had made it through the ordeal, and Marcus was just turning to form a plan with his companions, when Murphy shouted out at him from his side.

“Hey Kane! It looks like we have all the horses!”

Not able to resist that taunt, Marcus turned back and issued one of his own, “Hey Murphy! It looks like you are on the wrong side of the river!”

He only had a second to bask in his advisory’s sudden realization, when Abigail huffed behind him, “So what Mr. Kane? They can easily cross and from the looks of it they were also able to grab most of their supplies. Meanwhile, we are here with absolutely nothing. No clothes, no tools, no transportation. What do you suggest we do?”

“I have your box,” Jackson offered, earning himself a gentle smile from his sister before she turned a glare on Marcus once more.

“Jackson, do you have your wallet?” Marcus asked, glaring back at the woman, and trying really hard not to glance at her soaked through nightgown.

The other Griffin patted his coat, “Yes sir!”

“Does it have money in it?”

“Of course.”

Marcus nodded, and gestured to his duffel, “And I have my weapons, so we will be fine.”

“I am glad your weapons are secure, for obvious reasons,” Abigail muttered, her eyes flashing to the debris floating past them, “but what good is money to us in the middle of the desert?”

Marcus pushed past her and started walking towards the west, “Just trust me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus comes to the realization that he might be in a bit of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a couple questions from anons on tumblr asking if the characters in this story are the same age as on the 100. They are not. They are the ages of the original characters in The Mummy. Marcus and Abby are both 33, and Jackson is about 35.

Since he had been orphaned at seven-years-old, Marcus had become the master of getting out of tight spots. One had to be quick on their feet when they were living in the Chicago orphanage he had found himself in shortly after his parents were killed in a fire. There was always a bigger, meaner, more aggressive boy who took sadistic pleasure in torturing the smaller ones. And Marcus had been a small creature, not really coming into his own until he was almost sixteen. He quickly learned to be wily, and to avoid trouble as much as possible.

Of course, that didn’t mean trouble didn’t find him. When he was barely seventeen he had found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and in order to avoid arrest he had hidden away on a cargo ship set for Africa. Once there he tried to walk the straight and narrow, working odd jobs until he finally found a spot in an English regiment that was set to help contain issues with uprising Africans. It was not a fight he particularly felt any passion for, but it provided him with food in his belly and regular pay.

Then Hamunaptra happened. A battle that was more deadly than anyone in their regiment could have predicted. By some weird luck, so unusual when considering his life up until that point, he was the only one to survive the battle. Well, except for Murphy, but given the man in question had run from the fight that was no real surprise. Since his time at Hamunaptra four years ago, he had given up trying to be any type of upright citizen, and instead moved around Egypt doing as he pleased. He would bed women, steal, and stir up trouble wherever he could find it, always slipping away when things became “too much.” He had no attachments, no more sense of duty; he lived only to serve himself.

This is probably why it was no surprise that he ended up in prison with death looming over him. Still, he had no worries. He had gotten out of tighter situations before, and he had no doubt he would avoid the gallows when the time came. He was correct, thanks to a certain brown eyed annoyance that swooped in and bid for his life.

A brown eyed annoyance that was starting to make Marcus feel that he was in trouble. It was a feeling he had not had for years, and it was accompanied with the feeling that he was not going to be escaping anytime soon. Even more terrifying was the fact that he didn’t really want to escape.

Marcus first realized he was screwed when they began their morning trek from the river bank towards a nearby village he had come across several times in his travels. He was positive with a little bargaining, and the help of Jackson’s wallet, they would be able to convince the kind desert people within the village to offer assistance. The journey took the better part of three hours, and half way through, he became awfully aware that Abigail was limping. He had been avoiding looking at her most of the morning, seeing as her white night gown had practically been see through due to her impromptu swim, while also making sure that the ever annoying warden walked ahead of their female companion with eyes forward. It wasn’t until her gown was fully dry that he chanced a glance and noticed her troubled gait.

“You okay?” he asked gesturing to her feet.

“Yes,” she mumbled, “my slippers are just rubbing my feet wrong. I can handle it though.”

Pausing he grabbed her elbow and knelt at her side, earning an undignified squeak from the woman as she tried to step back. He grabbed her ankle to halt her, and tore off one of her slippers, wincing when he found her foot was covered in blisters where the useless things had rubbed her raw.

“Mr. Kane, this is most inappropriate.”

Ignoring her, he stood and scooped her up, shooting a look at Jackson to take over carrying the duffle of weapons.

“Mr. Kane!” his new cargo yelled, as she tried to squirm away, “I am more than capable of walking. I don’t need anyone to help me.”

“While I appreciate your independence, and respect it, we are in a bit of a hurry to get to our destination. I don’t want to be in the desert without camels when night falls. Your current predicament is merely going to slow us down.”

Abigail stopped squirming at his terse words, “If you truly feel this is needed, I will allow it. But please know that I am not some sack of potatoes that you can just throw around willy nilly.”

“Noted.”

They walked on for another hour or so, and with each step Marcus was greatly looking forward to the sight of the village they were headed towards. Not because carrying Abigail was a burden, the woman was lighter than she had any right to be, but because the feel of her soft body tucked to his chest was doing things to his head. He felt like he had consumed a few shots of what his favorite bartender referred to as “the green fairy.” His head was swimming, and if he were a weaker man he would probably be smiling like a fool and trying to catch a better scent of the person he was cradling. How could she smell so good after a dip in the river? It made no sense.

It was with great relief that they finally climbed over a dune, and the tents of their destination came into view. Marcus wasted no time walking into the desert village, depositing his cargo in front of an elderly woman he was well acquainted with.

“Hello Rania” he greeted the smiling woman who immediately reached out to kiss his cheek.

“My boy, my boy. How I help you?”

“My friend here has lost her clothes in a shipwreck. Can you provide her with a suitable outfit? Her feet also need to be treated.”

The woman asked no further questions before grabbing Abigail’s hand and dragging her towards a nearby tent, all the while shouting orders to nearby women in her native tongue. That settled, Marcus turned to go seek out the man he knew was in charge of the village’s camels, dragging Jackson with him and hoping the warden would wonder off and not return.

He allowed Jackson ten minutes of negotiating prices with the vendor before his annoyance won out. With a gruff growl at his companion, he plucked the amount asked for the camels out of his hands and placed it in the hands of the man holding onto their only option for transportation. Satisfied, the elderly Egyptian handed over the reins to four camels, and Marcus began to lead them back from where they came, eager to get on his way. He would be damned if he would let the likes of Murphy and his American companions beat them to their destination. He was much too competitive for that.

“Such a ridiculous asking price for these beasts!” Jackson was complaining, “We have been robbed.”

“We should have just offered them your sister; they might have gone for it.”

“That is a tempting thought isn’t it?”

It was in that moment that Marcus got the second hint that he was doomed, for as both he and Jackson snickered over leaving Abigail in the hands of the village, she emerged from Rania’s tent and stole his breath. There was never a doubt in his mind that the Griffin woman had beautiful attributes, her hair and eyes coming to the forefront of his mind, but to see her walking towards them in a gauzy black dress, and a veil around her face, was like something he had never seen. He could tell by the spark of her eyes that she was smiling, and for a moment he thought maybe it was a flirtatious smirk that was hidden behind her cover.

Then she stepped past him with a sweet coo, and reached out to stroke the neck of the white camel behind him, “What beautiful creatures!”

Of course she would be smiling over the camels. Marcus turned and helped her into the saddle of the one she was petting, trying not to think too much on the bitterness that was suddenly, inexplicitly gnawing at him.

It took a few more minutes for him to pay Rania for Abby’s new dress and some rations, all the while ignoring Jackson’s incredulous protests to the amount he was spending, before they were moving towards Hamunaptra once more.

He estimated that now that they had transportation that it would take them until morning to reach their destination, if they slept on the camels that night, and only stopped a few times to answer the call of nature. While Jackson and the warden did not seem to like that plan, Abigail was more than agreeable with it and again Marcus felt as if this woman was pulling him into an inescapable situation.

They rode mostly in silence for the rest of the day, and he almost, sort of, pushed all thoughts of his troubling companion from his mind. He studiously kept his camel ahead of hers, and focused on what he would do once he had his share of the spoils that they were about to dig up. If they could dig them up that is. He was not naïve enough to believe that it would be an easy expedition, but he was starting to reason with himself that if anyone could be successful in the abandoned city, it would be Abigail Griffin. She didn’t seem like the type of woman who got defeated easily.

The sun had long set, and Marcus was wide awake, his eyes scanning the desert in all directions for any signs of trouble. Behind him he could make out the snores of both Jackson and the warden, and the occasional soft breath from Abigail. He was just about to look back to see if she had fallen asleep, when her camel plodded up beside his own. Sure enough her eyes were closed, and her relaxed position told him she was dead to the world. With a soft snuffle she tipped slightly, stopping when her head came to rest on his shoulder.

For a moment Marcus almost righted her in her saddle, but decided against it. He wouldn’t want to risk his employer falling and breaking her neck after all. With that reasoning, he left her be, guiding the camels in the direction of Hamunaptra and studiously ignoring the scent of oil and perfumes that Rania must have brushed through Abigail’s hair. After a few more seconds, she shifted once more, her face tilting so her nose and breath were brushing against his neck in a distracting manner.

It was in that moment, when his heart clinched with desire (and something else he could not quite name) that Marcus realized once and for all that he was fully, inescapably screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The explorers deal with another threat from the Medjai

As she sat by the fire, feeling dazed and extremely exhausted, Abby determined that this was one of the most insane days of her life. And that was saying something given that the previous one had started with a fiery shipwreck, and a long trek through a desert. The flames jumped before her, dancing in a hypnotizing formation as her mind tried to absorb everything that had happened in the last 24 hours: a camel race to the lost city she now sat in, fights with Diana and her crew over digging spots, the discovery of an unknown sarcophagus, and the (surprisingly) sad death of the warden.

The man’s screams were still fresh in Abby’s ears, and if she closed her eyes she could still see his panicked state as he rushed past the rest of their party, before slamming into a nearby wall. For a moment she had been perturbed at the man for interrupting her as she was looking over their latest find- a huge coffin of stone that should not have been in the place they were digging- but when Marcus leaned over the fallen man and pronounced him dead, her annoyance fled in the face of pity and fear. What had caused the man’s untimely demise? Was this place truly cursed, or had the warden simply spooked himself to death?

Abby was pulled from her thoughts by Marcus moving to sit beside her, running a hand over his tired face. They had had to end their exploring early in order to bury their deceased companion, and it had been Marcus who had done most of the digging, seeing that Jackson was basically useless in all hard labor. Abby made a note to talk to her brother about at least trying to help out while they were on this trip.

“I was just speaking with some of our _buddies_ on the other side,” Marcus gestured to the area where the Americans had set up camp, “apparently some of their men were melted.”

“Melted?” Abby’s stomach rolled at the thought, and she thanked her lucky stars she had not seen those bodies. She wasn’t sure her nerves would have handled it on this particular day.

“Bloody hell,” Jackson murmured from his side of the camp fire, his focus half on them while he dug through the warden’s bags, “with all these deaths, maybe there is something to the rumors about this place. It could actually be cursed.”

For a moment an eerie silence fell amongst their trio, and Abby almost wanted to agree with her brother. From the look on Marcus’ face it seemed he was of the same mind, what with his wide eyes and contemplative expression. Then all at once, logic caught up with her, and she rolled her eyes both at herself and the men in her company, “That is ridiculous. Curses are nothing but legends told to desert folk to keep them away from places with priceless artifacts. If pharaohs of old hadn’t warned of a curse, there tombs would have been stripped bare years ago.”

“That might be so Abby, but all I am saying is that our smelly friend was spooked by something _and_ then you have the mel- AHH!”

Abby jumped at her brother’s exclamation, while beside her Marcus reached for one of the guns in his holster, both looking around to see what had caused Jackson’s panic. Seeing no sign of a threat, Abby turned back towards her brother, and found him holding a bottle of some sort, with a triumphant grin, while also shaking some blood from the thumb on his opposite hand. Abby berated herself at the sight, it being obvious that nothing more than the sharp edge of a glass bottle had caused Jackson’s yell.

_Get a grip on yourself girl,_ she told herself, _don’t let all this talk of death and curses make you lose your senses. You are better than that._

Beside her Marcus had relaxed with a curse under his breath, his eyes glaring at an oblivious Jackson, who sat back and took a swig from the bottle.

“I will tell you this, the man was repulsive, but he had a good taste in alcohol.”

Abby was just about to give him a piece of her mind for startling her so, when a piercing cry drifted to them over the stillness of the night. Her heart stopped, her head swiveling towards Marcus as he lurched to his feet, his eyes peering around them.

“Ohhhh…maybe a mummy has awoken,” Jackson laughed, sipping from the bottle once more.

“That is no mummy,” Marcus said more to himself than them, before looking right at her, “Stay here!”

With that he took off running towards the center of Hamunaptra, leaving Abby and Jackson to watch his retreat with confusion. A second later yells from the other camps filled the air, accompanied with gunshots, and the thunder of horses’ hooves. Confusion gave way to annoyance, and Abby thrust herself up from her seat, bending to pick up one of Marcus’ rifles before she took after the man in question.

“Abby!” Jackson yelled after her, “He said to stay here!”

She ignored her older brother, and crested the hill, pausing only for a moment as she took in the sight of men clad in black attacking the camp of the other party. She recognized them to be the same make as those that had attacked their boat; except now they had the upper hand as they rode past the American’s on swift steeds, swords raised above their heads. She cringed as one of the attackers rode right past one of the hired diggers for the larger group, and in one swift swing removed his head from his body. She barely had time to come to grips with such a gruesome act, when she realized the same sword was heading right towards her. Using more instinct than thought, she raised the rifle and fired, her steps faltering as her bullet met its mark, and the man fell from his horse with a pained groan. Everything seemed to freeze around her as she watched him fall, and the gun fell from her hands as she fell to her knees in the sand beside him. She could tell at once that her shot had been a fatal one, the man’s life seeping from him as she watched, and she felt the instant regret of her actions.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching out to take his hand, meeting the man’s eyes as he gave a shuddering breath, “I am sorry.”

The man looked her in the eyes for the next few seconds, as she whispered her apologies over and over; and then just like that he was gone. Abby wasn’t sure how long she sat beside him, the screams of the battle surrounding her, her focus was solely on the body of the man she had killed. Then all at once he was being lifted from the ground, hurried Egyptian being thrown at her as he was dragged off. All at once, Abby realized the battle had ended, and the desert men were retreating but she could not get her brain to fully process anything that was going on.

“Abby! Abby! Hey are you okay?”

Shakily she turned her head and found that Marcus was kneeling beside her, his eyes filled with concern. If she was in a better state of mind, she might have wondered why he was suddenly calling her by her nickname, but she couldn’t seem to get past the idea that she had just taken a life.

“I’m fine…fine.” She whispered as he helped her to her feet, but despite her words she did not object when he wrapped his hands around her arms and tugged her to lean against him. She should have protested, she should have refused to let herself be seen as some weak willed woman, but she just could not get the image of the man’s cold eyes from her head. Made cold by her hand.

There were discussions going on around her, about the attacks, about what should be done, and if they should leave, but she really didn’t take any of it in. The whole time the groups conversed Marcus held on to her, and then when things had been settled- when the Americans decided to move their camp closer to her group’s for safety- he gently pulled her back towards the fire she had left minutes (or was it hours) ago.

“Abby, I would really feel better if you talked to me,” he whispered.

“I…I killed a man.”

Marcus winced at her words, and grabbed the bottle of liquor from Jackson’s hand as he moved past, “You sure did, and I hate that for you sweetheart, I do. Luckily I know a way to take your mind off of it.”

“How?”

“You drink.”

~~~

It was a few hours after the Medjai had attacked, and Marcus had firmly decided it was a very bad idea to have let Abigail Griffin consume so much alcohol. At the moment they stood side by side by the fire, his stance firm while she swayed on her feet in an adorably inebriated way, Jackson’s snores one of the only sounds to be heard.

“Okay,” he was whispering, as he watched her nearly topple over in her quest to stand straight, “All you have to do is make a fist like I showed you, aim at my hand and swing.”

Abby giggled, her eyes wide as she held up her hand and worked it into a fist- almost getting her form right, “Like this?”

“That will do I suppose, now all you have to do is –“

“Swing!” she yelled, pushing her arm forward in such a forceful movement that her whole body twisted and she was falling into him. She laughed loudly at herself, as Marcus suppressed his own chuckle and eased them into the sand beside the fire.

“I think that is enough fighting lessons for one evening, and,” he reached out to pull the bottle she had picked up, reading for another sip, “no more of that.”

Abby jerked back, evading his grasp, “I know when I have had enough sir! Unlike my brother, I can tell when it is time to call it quits.”

Marcus smirked as she swigged from the bottle for the fiftieth time that evening, unable to keep from gazing at the way her neck bobbed as she swallowed.”

“What?”

“Hm?” He moved his eyes up from their focus on her neck, and blushed slightly to find she had caught him, “Oh, um…nothing…I was just thinking about why you are doing this?

Smiling knowingly, Abby leaned forward and gave him what he thought was supposed to be a wink, “You want to know why a place like me is doing in a girl like this?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Her smirk growing, she lifted the locket that had hung from her neck since he met her, and drunkenly fiddled with the clasp for a moment. When she succeeded she leaned forward to show him the contents, unwittingly giving him a flash of the top of her breasts, which he studiously ignored. Instead he focused on the images staring up at him from the pendant in her hand. One was a jovial looking man who appeared to be a slightly older version of Jackson, and the other was a gorgeous Egyptian woman with eyes so similar to the ones that were watching him intently. “These were my parents,” Abby whispered, her voice laced with sadness, “my father…he was an explorer, and he loved Egypt so much that he married my mother. They taught us everything I know.”

Marcus studied the pictures a second longer before reaching up to close the locket and letting it fall down back to rest in the hollow of Abby’s throat, “Them I get…and your brother…I just don’t understand why _you_ are here. You seem much more fitted for-“

“Fitted for what?” Abby snarled lurching to her feet with a drunken sway, leaving Marcus to watch her warily as anger seemed to suddenly consume her, “More fitted for a house? Should I be wearing pretty dresses, and painting pretty pictures while I bare my husband’s pretty children? Is that what I am more fitted for Mr. Kane?”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant!” In all honestly Marcus wasn’t sure what he had meant, but he sure as hell didn’t intend to make her this upset.

“I am so tired of men always assuming women can’t do anything!” she continued, ignoring his protests. “I can do a lot of things! I can speak four languages, I can organize massive libraries, and I can help date ancient artifacts…and…and….” She fell back into the sand, her eyes intent on him, “I can kiss. I am a hell of a kisser, or so I have been told. I don’t think you got a good enough taste in the prison, I should correct that.”

Marcus stared at her with disbelief, as she edged closer, her lips puckering as her eyes focused on his. He knew he should have stopped her, knew he should have respected the fact that she was intoxicated and not in the right state of mind; but a much bigger part of him was eager for her to finish closing the sparse space between them. He had a growing and insatiable need to feel her lips against his once more, had had such a feeling since she had saved his life, and he knew that this might be his only opportunity. So with a rapidly beating heart, he closed his eyes in anticipation…only to open them a moment later when he felt a heavy weight against his chest. Looking down, he found Abby had passed out against him, and he groaned in frustration as he gently eased her onto the sand and wrapped a blanket around her.

As soon as he was sure she was comfortable, he lay down in his own spot and promised himself one thing: He was keeping both Griffin’s as far away from alcohol as he could for the remainder of their acquaintance.


End file.
